Daryl and the Dancer
by Lana Jones
Summary: Long before the world went to hell, her world was already hell. Long shifts, late nights, strange men… And he had rescued her from it. It had been 5 years since she had last seen Daryl, and amidst the world collapsing around her, finding him again brought everything back in focus. Is it too late? How would he take finding out the whole story? DarylOC Prison Era - M is for Mature!
1. Chapter 1

I've had this idea for a while and decided to flesh it out. Any feedback is appreciated – been a while since I've written anything for fanfic and I'm both a little nervous and excited to be back!

_Summary:_  
_Long before the world went to hell, her world was already hell. Long shifts, late nights, strange men… And he had rescued her from it. It had been 5 years since she had last seen Daryl, and amidst the world collapsing around her, finding him again brought everything back in focus. Is it too late? And how would he take finding out the whole story? Earns its M rating straight away MATURE. DarylOC_

The summary will evolve I imagine as I continuing working this thing out

Any suggestions for what would make a better summary (should it be more specific about her character?), just let me know – that's my biggest struggle!

**Chapter 1: The Past is Just the Past**

-Eight Years Ago-

The repetitive music pulsated through the dimly lit room, hiding both the spectators and the performers from illumination. She never felt like she wanted to be made fully visible anyway, too much to hide. Too much shame. Her eyes, looking but never seeing, were directly above the bar opposite the stage, recounting the bottles lining the shelves to pass the time. '14, 15,…' she thought, never paying attention to the hungry eyes, the musty scent almost visibly fogging the air itself. She had learned to tune them out over the past few months, letting one thudding club song fade into the next without much thought. It made it easier.

Her three song set was ending, so she threw in one last slow slide down the spinning pole, ending in a practiced split, deciding to throw in a half-hearted wink for an extra pop. A few wolf whistles rang in her ears, bringing her back to reality from her safe zone far away from these dingy lights and thirsty looks. She stood slowly, gathering the bills scattered on the stage and gingerly snatching her bra from the floor. Turning around, she made her way to the small area designated as backstage.

"Pretty good crowd tonight, huh?" She looked up to see Remmy peeking around at the crowd as best she could in the stage lighting, a smirk gracing her features. She smiled slightly at Remmy, genuinely grateful to see the older woman. Remmy had just celebrated her 4th 29th birthday and was determined to be 29 until the day she dropped dead. She was, however, drop dead gorgeous- all Amazonian legs, exotically tan with a thick curtain of dark shiny hair cascading over her strong shoulders. She was part latina as best her guess- Remmy didn't know who her father was to confirm and her mother was white. Or white trash as she liked to phrase it. "You do good?" She asked her with a fixed stare, as Remmy was partially curious how her friend has fared for selfish reasons – she wanted to know what to expect from the crowd – but also because she was also concerned. Remmy smiled, eyeing a few bigger bills gathered from the stage, "Looks like you did alright to me, Candace."

Candace nodded, counting out a pretty decent sum from her three song set. "Not a bad haul," she agreed quietly. Remmy clapped her on the shoulder, hearing her own set starting up, and passed her by to make her way to the center stage. Candace watched her go, before turning to the small dressing room for the girls off to the side. Thankfully, no one was inside at the moment – it was 11 o'clock on a Friday night and she suspected most girls were out on the floor enticing men into private lap dances since that was how they made the most of their money anyway.

She analyzed herself in the mirror. She was much shorter than her friend, topping at a few inches above 5 feet – though her five inch heels certainly helped. Bright green eyes, popping from a heavy application of smoky makeup, sought her out in her reflection, partially hidden by a long sheet of wavy blonde hair. She had let it grow almost all the way down her back now, though the work sometimes made the long hair a hassle. Though she was no amazon, she had a pleasing figure – hell, she hadn't gotten this gig because she was unattractive. Supple curves, accentuated by the daring lingerie set she had worn this evening, kept the clients coming in, kept food on her table. She wasn't a whore, though a lot of the girls participate in those activities, but she certainly wasn't hiding her body.

She used to cry, and cry a lot. When she and her parents had their fights, she never expected them to throw her out. Never. She was only 16 when she was out on her own, and she remembered cursing her heartless stepfather, and her delusional mother, zombied out on whatever painkillers she had gotten her hands on. Scared, alone, and with nothing, Candace had searched for a job with a desperation that bordered on painful. Waiting tables didn't bring in nearly enough to afford rent anywhere, let alone all the other things – food, electricity, water… Things she hadn't thought about when she lived at home. Well, with her parents. Home was too strong a word for the place that made her miserable for as long as she could remember.

She had lied to get the job here, being only 17. She had told the leering manager that she was 18 to get the job. She had heard about it from a girl who had been waiting tables with her – Amanda. Amanda worked a few nights a week at Blue Moon on the fringe of the town Candace had ended up in a year later. Apparently, she made more there a few nights a week than working every day at the diner. Candace figured it was better than starving and she needed a permanent place to stay rather than the week-by-week extended stay hotel that had been consuming well over 90% of her income.

It had been a few months since then, and her 18th birthday was approaching fast. She was anxious for it to come, just in case someone ever did any checking into her – though she doubted anyone would look into this hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere town of nobodies. She sighed, trying to clear her head. She had to get back out there and make some real money.

Fixing her hair with shaking fingers, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, meeting her own eyes. "Candace. You can do this. You've been doing this. Nothing surprises you. Nothing scares you. Get out there." She told herself, getting pepped for going out there – can't have a surly personality or no personality and expect to attract customers. Most of the girls did dabs of coke in the bathroom, giggly and loud, but she couldn't bring herself to. She'd seen more than enough of strippers thrown out on their ass for being addicts who couldn't handle their addictions.

She made her way out of the room, turning down the hall that lead to the main part of the club rather than the backstage area. Putting her work smile on her face, she walked out into the main room.

"Hey there, sweetheart," cooed an older man sitting at a table to her left. She looked over at him. Wearing a comfortable grin, much like a wolf spotting a juicy piece of prey, he puffed away on his cigarette. He had blue eyes, framed by crow's feet giving away his older age along with a high forehead and very short hair, but his relaxed stance showed him as very comfortable in the strip club. A usual perhaps. She guessed he was in his late thirties or early forties. He gestured her over with a hand, "come say hi to ole Merle, why don'tcha?" He grinned even wider, flashing surprisingly pearly white teeth at her.

She put on her best smile and made her way over to the table. He pointed a finger at himself, "I'm Merle," and then pointed to the man sitting next to him, "and this is my baby brother, Daryl. He's not too good with ladyfolk, ya see?" He sniggered at his own joke.

She eyed the man sitting next to him. Almost a polar opposite to his older brother's relaxed stance, Daryl had a tight posture, a small frown etched on his younger face. A light scattering of messy brown-blonde hair in a shortish cut was all she could really see in the dark. She figured him at his late twenties, if she had to guess. But he too was smoking a cirgarette, the butt glowing orange as he inhaled. He didn't even look up at her.

"Hi there, Merle," she started, with a practiced voice, "and Daryl. Welcome to Blue Moon!" She threw in a wink, hoping that this Merle character had her rent in his pocket, ready for her to get out of him. She leaned in closer, "What can I do for ya, Merle?" She spoke more quietly, using the lean and the quieter voice to imply privacy, hoping to entice him to ask for a private dance. She could easily make a couple hundred off of a good dance.

His wolfish grin widened even further, something she hadn't really thought possible. "Oh no, sugar. This ain't about ole Merle, ya see? I told ya my baby brother ain't too good with the ladies. Think ya can give him a private lesson?" He winked at her, nudging Daryl in the ribs. Daryl looked up at his words, flashing a glance at Merle, something like anger flitting across his face.

He scoffed, "Ain't got no need for this shit, Merle. Told ya that!" He snapped. She thought he might be embarrassed, but didn't really know him well enough to tell. She internally sighed – she could really use the money and if they weren't going to use her time productively, she'd need to go find another client who would.

"Come now, little brother. You telling me this fine piece of ass," he paused to take an exaggeratedly long up-and-down at Candace, stopping here and there a few extra moments to appreciate her assets, "ain't pretty enough for ya? You look good enough to eat, sugartits." He told her, his voice still light. "You don't want to offend this sweet little thing, now do ya?" He paused, pulling out his wallet, "A little young for me, but I reckon she just about right for you, baby brother. Unless," he paused looking at Daryl, "ya ain't man enough!" Daryl snorted, still hunched over his drink tensely. "Come on now, we just got back, got some cash to burn, and I sure as hell didn't come here just to view the scenery. Come on, now!" He pulled out a few bills, handing them to Candace.

Once Daryl had seen the money leave Merle's hand and go to Candace's he pushed up from his chair. "Well if ya already paid her, guess I got to, don't I?" He said, definitely pissed. Candace hesitated a moment, not really comfortable with taking the angry stranger into a private booth.

"Don't scare the girl, Darylina!" teased Merle causing Daryl's head to snap up at the girlish nickname, "or she won't treat ya nice!"

At that, at least, Daryl seemed to realize that Candace was standing right there in front of them both, her pretty green eyes trained on him. He froze again, before sighing, draining the rest of his beer, and nodding for her to lead him to wherever they were going to go.

"Follow me, Daryl," she smiled at him before taking off, throwing her hair over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes. Most of the guys around here loved a little flirting thrown in. Looking more unsure of himself by the second, Daryl awkwardly followed Candace to the row of curtains against the wall. They were thick and heavy and dark, surprisingly sound proof, giving the people inside privacy. She led him to the seventh of eight on the side their table had been, holding open the curtain for him to go in first. The booth was small, but had a lot of seating room. Arranged in a semi circle of comfy, worn in leather, it sat in front of a small round table. The curtain closed it all off. Daryl sat uncomfortably in the middle of the leather seating, looking more and more tense by the moment.

"You act like you never had a lap dance before," teased Candace, hoping to use some small talk and humor to diffuse the tension radiating off of her newest client. He looked up from his careful study of the table in front of him, and she noticed his piercing blue eyes. They were just so blue, she couldn't look away. Beautiful was too pretty a word for the man in front her, all hard edges and rough lines, but she thought it anyway. He was scruffy, but he was beautiful staring at her with his unreadable blue eyes.

He scoffed, turning away quickly, and she noted the light reddening of his neck and cheeks – telltale signs of embarrassment. 'Oh,' she thought. "Well, that's okay. How about I tell you what I usually do, and you tell me what you want?" She suggested, softening from her work tone to her normal, softspoken voice. He looked almost like a frightened animal, like one wrong move would scare him away. He said nothing, but shrugged a noncommittal agreement.

"Normally," she said softly, slowly pulling herself into his lap, straddling one leg per side and sinking slowly against him, "I do a little dance to introduce myself…" She trailed off purposefully, using the trail off to grind into his hips just a little bit, testing out how he would respond. His breath sucked in almost involuntarily, and she found his hands slowly sliding up the soft skin of her outer thighs to the delicious curve of her hips, his eyes moving with his hands and continuing till they met her gaze. She waited patiently for him to finish his appraisal, waiting for him with a small, almost shy smile. Most men didn't look at her like this. She knew she was attractive, sexy, hot… But the look he gave her was like she was beautiful, like he was in surprise that she was sitting here in his lap and he was just allowed to touch her.

Deciding to help him, she ground herself into him again, applying a little more pressure as she experimentally rolled her hips, causing him to grab harder into her hips with a small groan, so soft she wouldn't have heard it if she wasn't focusing her every fiber on his reaction. This wasn't like other dances. He wasn't like other clients. His hands were rough, working man's hands, and for just a brief moment she imagined what it would feel like for him to run his hands up her body, up her flat, aching stomach, up her ribs to her breasts, cupping them fully and forcefully. She wanted him to.

She didn't know why she was reacting this way. She'd done hundreds of private dances in her employment, but maybe because it was Daryl's first dance, maybe because he just didn't know how these were supposed to go, it was invoking this reaction. That had to be it.

Mentally shaking the emotions curling down to her toes, she flashed him her signature smile. His eyes met hers – blue and green melting into each other for just a moment, and all the uncertainly, the hesitancy, the insecurity that met her in those dark blue depths gripped her to her core. Her smile slipped, fading into something more genuine, softer.

She found him alluring.

She didn't want to look away.

Shakily sucking in her breath, letting a gasp shudder through her, she ground into him again, her eyes searching. Searching for some sign he wanted her. Not just the usual lust-driven hunger that would settle for any piece of meat crossing his path, but something more intimate, personal. Did he want her too?

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her hips, his large hands, heavy and hot, trailing up her sides just as she imagined. She shuddered again, arching her back to push herself more against him. His breath came harder now, panting heavier, grasping more intensely. One hand still on her hip gripped tighter, as the other ghosted over her breasts, up her neck. She let her head drop back, a soft moan escaping her lips. She continued to grind into him, actually enjoying feeling the effect she had on him. She wanted his hand on her breast, she wanted him to flick and twist her nipples. She brought her face down to tell him, she wanted it so badly, when his fingers grazed her lips.

She paused her motions, surprised. No one touches a stripper's lips.

But she didn't just want his fingers on her lips.

He watched her closely, intently, those dark blue eyes staring her down. They were so dark now, diluted, deep, and black. He didn't pressure her to move, just watched her. Her breathing came heavily now, panting with an ache she'd never felt before- not even from before she was stripping. No crush, no boyfriend, no one had ever made her feel this incredibly sexy and powerful and wanting all at once.

And the way he looked at her. Like she was beautiful and significant. Something worthy of being cherished. Like he's never seen anything like her before. She had seen looks like that before- on other people, for other people. Never for her.

His hand lifted to almost grace her face, but dropped to his lap, and she found herself disappointed. She watched it fall, before looking back up to meet his gaze.

"How much a kiss gonna cost me?" His voice was deeper than before, huskier.

She blinked in surprise. "I don't sell kisses, Daryl. I only sell dances."

He studied her again.

"Come on, now. I ain't a fool. Ain't that part of your…" he trailed off, one hand combing through his hair in frustration, "hell, I dunno. Business?"

Candace slid off his lap, sitting herself on the table in front of him. She could be offended by his question, but it was a fair one.

"For some, yes." She sighed, looking down. "I could never…" She sighed again, heavier, wishing she could take back this whole conversation. "I don't…" She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes for him to understand, she's not that kind of girl. "I won't. It doesn't matter how bad off I get with bills." She took a shaky breath. "I may not live well, but I have to live with myself, you know?" She said, hoping to make him understand. Needing to make him understand. "It's never like this…" she finished, looking right into him.

"This?" He questioned gruffly, refusing to look at her, determinedly studying the floor. Her heart sank further.

"Two-sided?" She half said, half asked in a quiet breathy voice, barely trusting herself to let the words out. She let the question hang a moment, before scooting off the table to his right. "I'm sorry! I should never have said- I am an idiot, huh? You probably want to get back to your brother, and I'll have the bartender get y'all another round!" She chattered, hiding her sudden insecurities. The music that had faded in the background while she and Daryl had been in another world came slamming back, pulsating through her even harder than before.

She went to leave but his hand on her wrist stopped her.

He didn't say anything, just looked at her. She bit her lip, casting her eyes around, down, anywhere but his.

He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words so he just let her go.

She wanted to say something, but knew she had said enough. She was a stripper, and no matter what she imagined happened between them, she knew it never was true. She made a living off of pretending to be into people she wasn't.

The moment gone, they both stepped out from the private booth, the muggy air, poor lighting, and thuds of the base in the music coming all rushing back. She went to the bar, he went to his table.

"Woo, boy. In there for quite a bit! How was little sugartits?" He winked.

Daryl snarled at his brother, slumping further into his seat, taking the beer Merle had ordered for him while waiting for him to come back. "Shut up, Merle." He snapped, eyes blazing. Merle smirked but, for once, didn't say a word, letting his little brother stew in his own dark thoughts.

The brothers stayed till close, and all the while, Daryl stared.

* * *

And that's all for chapter one folks! Don't worry I'll dive into the Zombie times soon enough. It's really important for the story that you understand Candace and Daryl's relationship as it unfolded, what had happened before the world went to shit, and where things were. It'll probably be another 2 chapters of pre-zombie stuff. Then it's going to jump into prison times – no going through seasons 1 &amp; 2 and junk since she wouldn't be in it. This story is NOT really about their relationship before, quite the contrary. It's about, as the summary said, everything that happens when they find each other again. About finding out the whole story. I just need for you to understand where things left off… And it's a fun ride there but only 2 chapters more at most!

Most things will unfold as cannon, but if I were to retype all that stuff, it'd make for a pretty pointless story as you could just watch the tv show and enjoy Daryl in person. Yum! So I'll make a few creative changes to the original plot and let y'all know in advance!

Till next time

-Lana


	2. Chapter 2

So like I said another 2 chapters of pre-zombie, getting to know you type stuff! This should help set the stage for their coming back together very nicely. Any suggestions let me know. These first few chapters were written before I decided to post – I wanted to make sure I was devoted to the story, and that I had the heart to finish it, before publishing it! That was always my favorite part of ff – that glorious feeling when you finally finish your baby and you just stand back to watch it.

My best friend's husband manages a strip club by the way and that's where I pull the stripper stuff from. It's not a glorious job by any means, but it sure is fun as hell going to the strip club (this coming from a girl)! Really though, I recommend trying it at least once ;)

PS: Thank you for the reviews for those of you who did I'd forgot how much fun they are to read!

_Summary:_  
_Long before the world went to hell, her world was already hell. Long shifts, late nights, strange men… And he had rescued her from it. It had been 5 years since she had last seen Daryl, and amidst the world collapsing around her, finding him again brought everything back in focus. Is it too late? And how would he take finding out the whole story? Earns its M rating straight away MATURE. DarylOC_

**Chapter 2: Taking a Chance**

Daryl and his brother had come back every night for the next week.

He never asked for her, never tried to get another private dance, never even came up to the edge of the stage with a stack of bills to toss on or around her as she sashayed the stage. But even through the stage lighting, she could feel his eyes burning into her like a slow-burning fire.

And it thrilled her. She spent more time on her hair and make-up, hoping to look good just for him. She pranced a little more, smiled a little wider. And did her best to not search him out in the crowd, waiting for him to come to her.

But he didn't.

A full seven nights had passed and he hasn't once beckoned to her, or even paid her any special attention. Just watched.

And she grew frustrated waiting.

On the eighth night, she gave up on expecting him to say something to her. She really had just been fooling herself. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, finishing changing and prepping before heading out to work the floor. 'He doesn't care.' She thought. 'You're just a stripper, and he's not interested. Never was. You're a naïve fool for thinking so,' she berated herself internally.

With a deep sigh, she fluffed her hair with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, plastered on her work smile, and headed out to the main floor. Maybe it was the holiday season, but she had been the club had been considerably more busy than usual. It was always Christmas and New Years that reminded these men they had no one to go home to, or a maybe no one they wanted to, and they flocked here like the faithless to church on the rapture, desperate for a little fleshy salvation from their loveless lives. One man in particular had been hounding her all week, buying dance after dance from her, flashing his cash. She appreciated the large tips he left her, and all the money she was making, but he was very hands-on, to a point where even she was uncomfortable. She hadn't been lying to Daryl when she had said she didn't do that sort of thing. She had seen Julia Roberts in that movie, and she didn't kiss any clients either.

He'd been pushing her all week, trying to push his luck by licking her breast when she had expressly told him touching only, or trying to slide her thong aside to slip a finger where it shouldn't. It gave her the absolute creeps. Not like she could complaint to management about it, seeing as how many of the girls made most of their money that way. Hell, they practically encouraged it. But she felt violated all the same.

Tonight was no exception. The second she stepped out into the room, there was Jonathan, waving her over. Biting back a grimace, she carefully made her way over to him.

"Hi there, Jonathan!" She said, forcing some enthusiasm into her voice. Still her job to provide a pleasing picture.

"Well, hello gorgeous. Been waiting to see that pretty little face all night," he smirked, pulling a roll of cash out of his jacket pocket. "Why don't we step to the booths?" he said.

'Boy, he's not wasting any time,' she thought to herself as Jonathan certainly was cutting to the chase quicker than usual. It made her hesitate for just a moment, as he'd been handsy and forceful in the few moments he usually snagged her before close. She was afraid to think of how far he'd push things given a whole night ahead of him. "You see," she started slowly, unsure where she would take things but desperate to get out of the situation, "I .. uh-"

"Already got a client lined up for the evenin'." She knew that voice.

Daryl put his cigarette out in the tray in front of Jonathan, eyes hard as he stared the smaller man down.

"It's not like a restaurant. You don't make reservations. I saw her first, flagged her down first. I get," he paused a moment to leer at Candace, "serviced first." He emphasized 'serviced' to stress what he felt that service should encompass.

"Take it up with customer service or some shit, fucker," Daryl spat out. He snatched Candace by the wrist and dragged her, not to the nearest booth as she had thought, but straight to the exit the smoker's used to take breaks outside.

"Daryl?" she asked, a little breathless from the dragging and from the surprise at his actions.

He didn't answer, opting instead to smoke another cigarette. Pulling one out, he lit it and inhaled deeply. He didn't even look at her. Candace shivered, it was getting cold now that it was early December and she was only wearing lingerie afterall. Her teeth chattered slightly, but she didn't want to go back inside, inside towards Jonathan, away from Daryl.

He suddenly shrugged out of his leather jacket, handing it to her silently, still not looking at her. Taking it gratefully, she slipped it on where it hung quite largely off of her slight frame.

"That creep's been botherin' you all fuckin' week." Was all he said, taking another puff.

She looked at him in surprise, surprised that he'd even noticed. Sure, he'd been watching her. But after all those days without any real contact, she thought maybe she'd imagined his eyes burning into her just because she wanted them there.

"Why the fuck didn't you say somethin'?" He asked her, angry and harsh.

She blinked at that. "Why do you think?" She shot back, irritated. This wasn't how she had pictured their second chat in her head. She wasn't exactly sure what she had expected, but him yelling at her wasn't it. "It's not like I can say anything about anyone to anyone. Dealing with handsy creeps is in my job description."

He huffed at that, still angry. "Shit ain't right," he finally said, somewhat less angry. Her eyes softened, knowing he was just angry, not angry at her.

"Of course it's not. But I can't starve." He looked at her, finally, those blue eyes haunting her with an unreadable expression she so desperately wished she could read. "I worked at a diner before this, ya know." She looked at the pavement in front of her, carefully studying the gravel. "My parents kicked me out before I was ready. I was too young and too naïve to figure out how to live without any support. I worked at a diner, and spent all my money trying to keep a room at one of those extended stay places. It was awful. I got lucky the cook at the diner liked me – she was always stuffing me full of food whenever I worked since I couldn't really afford to buy groceries." Candace sighed, her confession saddening her a little. "Never thought I'd miss them," He looked up questioningly at her. "My parents," she clarified, understanding the question. "My stepdad was a mean, heartless jacksass. Saw me as an expense he had to pay for rather than a daughter needing a dad. And my mom was so checked out on whatever pain killer she could get her hands on that she practically forgot she even had a daughter." She laughed a little darkly. "Some family, huh?" She examined her high sparkly heels, not wanting to meet his gaze after telling her story. 'Definitely not what I wanted to talk about the next time I saw him! Idiot,' she thought furiously at herself. He had finally paid her some attention and she was mucking it all up with her sob story.

"Shit ain't right either," he said. "You got a kid, you care for it. End of story." He finished his cigarette, throwing it to the ground and stepping on it. He looked up at her, "how much time can I take of yours tonight?"

She looked surprised again, trying to hide it with a nonchalant shrug. "Whatever I feel like charging ya. Though I have to give my manager a chunk of my earnings as a courtesy."

"Sounds like a pimp to me," Daryl muttered angrily.

"I don't want to charge you," was all she said, a little sad.

"Shit," he curse, pulling out his wallet and grabbing the few bills he had in there and stuffing it against her. She took it only because he wouldn't have it any other way. She grabbed his hand, and pulled him back inside and over to a booth.

"Only way we can have any real privacy for any amount of time," she half yelled over the loud music as she found an empty one and opened it up. He nodded, following her in silently. She wondered what he was thinking, she wished so badly that she could just know. Closing the curtain behind her, the sounds thumped against them, but were certainly more muted than before. "That's better…" She started, lamely, resisting to look right at him, but instead focusing on the dark table. She hesitated before climbing on top of it.

"No," he said quietly, but firmly. Startled, she looked at him only to find him gesturing to the bench too, to sit next to him. She let herself smile a small smile and sat next to him, happier with the arrangement. But she waited, quiet. She wanted, needed him to talk first.

He swallowed, "Uh, I was here a lot this week," He started.

"I know." He paused at that.

"It's not that I didn't wanna talk to ya, I just…" Now he was the one to trail off lamely, seeming to close in on himself, depleted from his confession of actually coming to see her all week. He didn't specifically say that's what he was doing, but they both knew and it made him awkward.

"It's okay." She said softly, risking a hand on his arm. She hoped it wouldn't scare him off. He tensed momentarily, but relaxed after a few seconds.

"I'm not some stable-job, stickin' around kinda man," he started again, "I ain't the type for promises and shit." She tilted her head curiously at him, was he saying what she thought he was?

He looked uncomfortable again, and she didn't want that. "What do you do?"

His expression changed, still unreadable but just different, "Whatever me and Merle can, I guess," He looked away from her, "We drift a lot."

She understood. "I take my clothes off for money," she replied, "I'm not exactly traditional either, but I know that I like you, Daryl." She willed him to look up at her, and he did.

"I won't be around a lot," he said again, firmly looking her in the eyes. He had such beautiful eyes. He didn't tell her how he felt back, but she could feel it radiating from him. She had thought herself an idiot all this week, feeling some connection between them, knowing how ridiculous it is for anyone in her profession to have a relationship, but desperately clung to the idea anyway. She was now being rewarded for it.

"I'll be here when you want me," She said softly, squeezing his arm slightly. He nodded, seeming to take comfort in his words.

"What time are you off tonight?"

"2"

"I'll be outside," he said, his blue eyes stormy and dark to her. What was he thinking? She so wanted to know.

"Okay," she agreed, both of them leaving the booth. One squeeze on her hand, and he was gone, out the door. She reluctantly went back to work, but was excited for when she got off, more so than she'd ever been.

2 AM

Candace was anxious to leave, as she'd cleaned up her stuff, paid her manager, tipped out the bartender and everything else she could possibly have to do almost half an hour ago. As soon as they were let go, she bolted for the door, hoping he would be there. He said he would be, but what if he changed his mind?

Her worried thoughts were silenced when she was greeted with the sight of Daryl on the back of a motorcycle, an extra helmet sitting behind on him on the bike. She shivered with excitement, tightening her jacket around her as she approached. He handed her a helmet as he finished his cigarette. "Where we goin?" He asked her.

She gave him the address, he nodded, and they took off. It was exhilarating to sit behind him on the bike, his abdominal muscles clenching and tightening under her grip, the world rushing past her in a whirlwind. She loved it. She'd never ridden on one before but did her best to lean when he did in the same direction, and not squeeze him too tight.

When they arrived at her place, he was surprised to see a small 6 bedroom apartment building that looked more like a tallish house. She walked him through the yard to an outer staircase and they went up the top floor, which was only the second story. Still silent, she moved to open 202 and ushered him inside.

She could see the look of surprise barely flash upon his face, but she knew why. Most teenaged girls are messy, with lots of trinkets and things strewn everywhere, but Candace never kept a lot of things so her apartment was extremely neat. Almost too neat, like it was barely lived in. It had bare furnishings that were included with the rental - a basic wooden coffee table with an end table, a small chest where an entertainment center might be, no television in sight, and a soft dark couch pushed against the wall. The kitchen was a basic one, equipped only with outdated essentials, and a few cabinets misaligned. Down the short hallway was a bedroom on one side and a bathroom and a storage closet on the other.

Suddenly nervous, as she'd never had a man in her apartment before, she clasped her hands nervously in front of her, it was an old habit she'd picked up and never could quit. "Would you like a glass of water?" She asked, her voice shaking slightly. He nodded, those dark blue eyes staring at her unwaveringly. She realized that without a TV, she was his only focus. "Sorry I don't have a television, I, uh, well don't watch much," she said simply.

"Never saw a need for one," he replied. She felt relieved, but still tense and nervous as he continued to watch her. As he sat, she rushed to the kitchen to get him a glass of water, glad she had some ice to throw in, before returning to give it to him, a glass for her in her other hand. They both sat in silence.

She was nervous. He wasn't talking. She didn't even know what to say to him. So she decided for the truth, consequences come what may. "You make me nervous." She said quietly. He looked up, startled, as if surprised him that he was the cause of her nerves. She noted he had been nibbling on his fingernails, and her brow furrowed. Was it her who made him nervous? So she spoke.

She told him of her mother, both the good of their relationship and the bad. She talked about her stepfather too, and his horrible excuse for parenting that mostly consisted of pretending she doesn't exist. But she told him about her dreams too, how she wanted to go to culinary school and learn how to be a famous chef or baker. She loved cooking, despite her meager kitchen, and she wanted to one her own restaurant someday.

Daryl watched her carefully as she spoke. Her eyes sparkled as she talked about her favorite recipes and he smiled watching her. To him, she was beautiful. He wasn't used to pretty girls, especially ones interested in him, and she was radiant. His eyes focused on her plump soft lips as she spoke, his eyes darkening whenever she licked her lips in the pauses.

She finished talking, eyes shining with hope of a better future.

He hesitated a moment, not wanting to have to open up, but something in her glittering eyes, her welcoming and open smile, the warmth in her gaze, he felt like he could. He wanted to.

And open up he did. He told her about his mother, her death, his father, his parenting methods. His sentences were shorter, his descriptions forced and brief, but he shared. He shared like it was the only gift he could ever give her. He didn't understand all of these emotional urges and powerful feelings. Even though he was 25, he had never been in a relationship. Not one. His upbringing left him emotionally stunted and, in a way, incomplete.

She listened, never letting her face betray the sadness she felt when he spoke. She resisted the urge to hug him, seeing that she just had to let him get it out. She wondered if he'd ever unburdened this on anyone before, or if this was the first time. Despite her 17 years, she had matured a lot being forced out on her own, and just wanted him to know that she was here for him. She wasn't totally sure how.

He finished, refusing to meet her eyes, shoulders slumped in defeat. He figured this was the point that she rejected him, knowing how broken he was. Instead, she put two fingers under his chin, tilting his head up to look at her.

"Thank you," she told him, simple and truthful. She was grateful he told her. It wasn't the reaction he was expecting. And he felt lighter because of it. She wasn't turning him away. She moved to withdraw her fingers when he suddenly grasped them tightly in his hand, holding her in place. He leaned forward, stretching to wrap the other hand around the back of her head at her neck and pulled her in to meet his lips and hers.

Their first kiss was soft, sweet, and short. The second was longer, languid, and slow. The warmth it gave her stretched all the way down to her toes, she pressed in further, hungrier, wanting more. He reacted, pulling her in tighter, drawing her lips open with the touch of his tongue, needing to taste her, claim her. He turned them slightly, pushing her down on the couch underneath him. Only coming up for air when absolutely necessary, he continued to kiss and taste her, using his lips to express the words and feelings he could never say. He felt them so swiftly, so strongly, that he felt swept away. He wasn't one to believe in love, but he sure never experienced anything this potent in his entire life. He wanted it.

She was lost, happily, deliriously, in the exquisiteness of the moment. Enjoying every warm touch he hesitatingly took on her stomach, her back, her shirt pushed up to reveal a slight expanse of butter-soft skin. Every scorching taste of his tongue, every moment pressed against him, lips locked, vibrated through her whole body. She had never been in love before, and she wasn't entirely sure this was it, but she didn't want these feelings to end. Surely it was too fast for love?

She felt connected with him. They had talked for a long time, judging by the peaking sunrise in the cracks of the blinds of the windows. It must've been hours of sharing, swept up in each other and the moment.

But, there was one thing. She knew she had to tell him before things went any further. She could lie to the strip club and justify it for the job, but if she really wanted him, she knew she had to be honest. She stopped him abruptly, using her small hand on his chest to firmly push him back. He looked surprised, his hair stuck up from her hand in it, his eyes smoldering.

"Am I-" he started in

"I'm 17." She said, cutting him off. He stiffened. "I turn 18 in a little over a month and a half, February 10th," she told him, her voice quiet. "I had to lie about my age to get the job at the club, I didn't want to lie to you…" She trailed off then, anxious and upset at his unchanging expression.

Swiftly, he got up and rushed out the door, not saying a single word. She was shocked, hollow and empty as his response. She counted to 10 in her head, hoping to hear a knock on the door, before she gave in to the tears that were forcing themselves out. She had opened herself up and he had left her hanging there, exposed and raw. After a night of whirlwind emotions, she was exhausted. Giving herself over to her tears, she cried herself to sleep.

Feb 10, 2 AM

Of course Candace had to work on her birthday kind of. The 10th was already 2 hours in, technically. At least she had tomorrow, well today, off. She was glad to have finally turned 18, no longer nervous about getting in trouble at work. If they found out her age later, she was already legal so she knew management wouldn't care.

She was glad to be getting off. She'd been doing well as of late, and after he-she-won't-name had left, she had reevaluated a little. It had always been her dream to be a chef, and she still wanted it. She wanted out of her life now. So Candace had been carefully saving up little bits – twenty here, twenty there, from shifts to build a small savings for culinary school. It would be a long while yet to save up all she needed to, but she had to start somewhere.

Candace carefully studied herself in the mirror, the bright eyes had been dull for a few weeks after he-she-won't-name left, but her determination to get herself out of her situation had willed the spark back in them. She had a goal for her life, and at least she could thank what happened to give her a push to make her life better.

Still, she missed him. She found herself too often remembering the feeling of his lips against hers, the weight of his body on top of her, the taste of his tongue… But she stopped herself, it was too dangerous to remember. Candace shook her head, as if she could physically shake the thoughts out, and squared her shoulders. Time to go. She pushed open the door, tightening her jacket around her even more, and headed out to the lot. She was glad she had already gotten a car, used but drivable, from her parents before she was out on her own, because she'd never be able to afford one otherwise. She shuddered at the thought of walking home with all her cash on her.

Pulling into her building, she parked and locked it, heading in. Exhaustedly going up the stairs, she walked to her apartment before stopping suddenly. Leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette, Daryl was waiting for her. Her heart stopped completely.

He looked up to see her standing there, mouth agape, keys in hand. He pushed off the wall with one foot walking over to her with determination. He paused right in front of her.

"Happy 18th birthday, Candace," he said softly, before pulling her in for a kiss. The second their lips met, she felt that exhilarating thrill, that soft vibrating tingle bloom up within her. Daryl was back, and tonight, he wouldn't run. She was old enough to make her own damn mind up, legally, and she wanted him with every fiber of her being.

* * *

Alrighty folks! Don't kill me for stopping here but I think they're first night together will get better attention in the next chapter. Like I said, this is all just illustrating the get together so that their run-in in the zombie apocalypse (the focus of the story) will play it out properly. Next chapter will feature that night, as well as an overview of the next few years with some startling developments! Stay tuned because it just gets better from here ;)

Also, I recognize the style of writing is a little dense at the moment but that's for a few reasons: Daryl is a thinker, not a talker and Candace, when not having to put on her work personality, is the same way. Because these two (will be 3) chapters will focus on only them, I want it more emotional. When we get into the ZA, which will play out Season 3/Prison era time, there will be many more characters (existing, I don't like to add a lot of OCs or it gets confusing), and both Daryl and Candace will have matured a little and it will change some things!

Till next time

-Lana


	3. Chapter 3

Howdy folks! Back for chapter 3 – I'm actually sitting in an ethics lecture at the moment but keep finding myself back to this story. So here we are.

NOTE: started on writing this chapter, forgot we were picking up at the steamy love scene… So… Onward!

We're getting close to the end of the pre walker era – please note I will not be going through the entire series of the show. If you wanted to rehash the entire show episode by episode, you can go watch the fabulous acting and work of the AMC tv series. I intend to jump in to the prison era time period, messing with a few key points for purposes of my story – and then letting all the characters play it out to see where it goes!

_Summary:  
Long before the world went to hell, her world was already hell. Long shifts, late nights, strange men… And he had rescued her from it. It had been 5 years since she had last seen Daryl, and amidst the world collapsing around her, finding him again brought everything back in focus. Is it too late? And how would he take finding out the whole story? Earns its M rating straight away MATURE. DarylOC_

**Chapter 3: Birthday Sex**

She gasped into the kiss. It was so hot and sudden and thrilling. She felt the heat blooming up within her like a smoldering fire burning ever brighter. She wasn't sure if the spinning was from the attraction or from the lack of oxygen but she spun happily, lost in one moment in a sea of disaster that was perfect.

He pulled away, his blue eyes bled black, the emotion behind them, so usually unreadable to her, started her at its ferocity. She hurried to open the door, anxious to get them both inside. Once he followed her in, she locked the door, taking in a deep unsteady breath as she tried to gather her thoughts. So many thoughts darted inside her, swirling in with her emotions to confuse her further. He left because she was too young? For it to be legal? Is all he wants from her…?

She whirled around to face him. She was surprised to find him standing in front of her kitchen table, looking down at paper she had carelessly thrown there in her hurry to get to work. He picked it up, scanning it further before turning to face her.

"You're really going for it?" He asked quietly, gesturing to the piece of paper she had picked up from the culinary school showing the class and equipment rental costs.

Candace nodded, smiling. "It'll be maybe 2 years before I can save everything up, quit the club, focus on schooling," she walked over to him, her tall heels clacking on the wooden floors, "but it'll be worth it in the end." It was his turn to nod.

"Why are you here, Daryl?" She decided to be blunt, direct. She had waited for him, hating him and missing him, cursing his exit, begging for another kiss in her head for months now.

He didn't say anything for a minute, and she was content to wait. She'd waited 2 months, what were a few moments more?

"I couldn't stop thinkin about ya," he said softly, looking purposefully at the floor.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you either, Daryl. That kiss-"

"No," he stopped her, looking up, taking a few steps toward her until they were almost touching. She looked at him, confused. "I meant before that. A whole week watchin ya, not doin anything about it. I ain't a good man, I couldn't stay away. And then you weren't even old enough." He scoffed, running his hand shakily through his shaggier hair. "I told Merle you was 17 and he had a good laugh. Callin ya jail bait, tellin me I's a fool for even lookin," she wanted to interrupt him but knew it was better to let him finish. "But I couldn't stop thinkin bout ya before, why would I be able to stop after I knew you was too young? So, I left." He broke off, looking at her intensely, his hand opening and closing at his side.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, "It's okay, I want you here." She assured him, understanding his own insecurities about voicing too much emotion.

"I'm 28 years old, Candace. I'm ten years older than you…" he started.

"I know."

"I ain't got a good job, or even a steady one-"  
"Daryl, we've had this conversation and nothing's changed. Except I'm a year older, and I'm tired of waiting."

That's all he needed before his lips crashed down on hers again, his hand wrapping around her and pulling her in close. His big rough hands, worn fingers, tangled in her glossy hair, as he enjoyed the silky sensation of her hair on his skin.

Kissing Candace felt so natural to Daryl. He'd had flings before with a few women here and there. Sloppy, hazy, and quick were words Daryl would use to describe all of his previous experiences. But none of those words he felt were right for this night. She smelled like vanilla and lavender, earthy and soft, her warm skin and pink lips like sunshine on his darkened heart. He didn't want to mess up.

To Candace, Daryl was all hardened masculinity yet tender gestures. Almost like he was timid with her, intimidated by her. It was something she hadn't expected but she didn't find herself surprised. In all of her dreams of Daryl, he always had a sensitive side he showed only to her.

She broke the kiss, grabbing his hand and leading him back to her bedroom. She didn't usually get birthday presents but she knew one thing she wanted. And she was getting it.

The door was already open, showing a room with soft white carpet, soft white drapes, and sparse furniture – just like the rest of her apartment. The bed was a full, neatly made with fluffy blankets and pillows draped all over it. He paused momentarily upon entering her room, apprehensive at putting himself in her personal space, but she smiled reassuringly and pulled his hand, bringing him forward.

She wrapped her soft arms around his neck, bringing his lips back to hers with a vengeance. She licked her lips, inviting him to be more forward, and he responded by slipping his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, moving against her in perfect tandem. She gasped into it, allowing him to use his hand cradling the back of her head and his clever, persistent tongue to pull her in even closer.

Her hands slipped down his neck, over his broad shoulders, down the front of his powerful, solid chest. She went for his buttons, getting them undone one by one. Butterflies fluttered frantically inside of her stomach, the anticipation making her breath hitch, her body clench tightly, even her toes slightly curl.

He moved his lips down to the corner of her mouth, following a soft trail down her chin to her neck, her velvet skin assaulted by his tongue and teeth. He latched onto her pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, as she pulled his finally unbuttoned shirt open to press her hands directly on his chest. The skin-to-skin contact burned her fingertips with the heat. She traced her fingers up and down, little lines of heat and warmth spreading from where their skin met.

"Oh god," she gasped, dropping her head back to expose more of her neck to him. His fervent attentions leave her body aching, wet, wanting. "Please," she breathed softly, wanting it to never end but wanting more at the same time. His hands, trembling slightly she noticed, moved to the hem of her shift. He broke off kissing her neck long enough to pull her shirt over her head, before bringing her lips up to his. His hands ghosted over the surface of her now bare skin, the velvet of her shoulders down her arms, back up to her neck. Still barely touching, he brought his palms down her neck to her chest over her breasts, cupping her through her bra. She was left panting, breath uneven.

"Yes," she confirmed into the kiss, arching her back to press her breasts against him more insistently. Taking the hint, he reached behind her and unclasped her lingerie, letting it fall to the floor. Eagerly, she pressed into his hands, begging his attention. And he gave it.

He cupped and squeezed, admiring their fullness, and perkiness. Soft and full they molded into his hands. He rotated the rough skin of his thumb pad against her nipped, hardening them as she gasped into his lips, still locked onto hers. Smirking into the kiss a little, he tweaked each on, enjoying her responsiveness to him. Continue to torment her, he kissed down the side of her face, her neck, before ducking his head down and catching a pert nipple in his mouth. He sucked it for a minute before gently rolling it between his teeth, eliciting a loud moan from Candace. Repeating the same thing on the other nipple, Candace was lost in the pleasurable sensation. So lost, she didn't even realize he had walked her back to her bed, pushing her gently down onto it.

She pulled him with her, reaching down and beginning to work on his belt and jeans as he kicked his boots off. He slid his hands down the silky skin of her body, not unlike the first time they had touched each other's skin in the club. He reached her leggings, and slowly slid them off, her kicking her legs around and shifting to help him. Her leggings gone, he slid her thong off as well, as she successfully got him unbuttoned, unbelted, and unzipped.

He stood up, finishing sliding the thong off one silky leg, and he stopped.

"What's wrong?" She asked, spread out on the bed, lips plump and swollen, neck marked, nipples perky.

He looked at her, almost in awe, before answering her. "You sure you want me?" He looked doubtful, she looked like an angel, a sexy angel, hot and bothered and aching for him. He could see her lips glistening, and it was all he could do to not dive face first and inhale everything that is her. He had pictured her face, her lips, her eyes every second he was gone. And here she was, naked and wanting in front of him. A part of him thought it just another dream.

"Daryl, please." She said softly, big eyes looking up at him with all the same need he felt.

He nodded, shucking his pants to revel he had been going commando. It gave her a small thrill.

Now sure of himself, Daryl climbed over here, his body hovering above hers just far enough away that should couldn't directly feel his skin, but she could feel the electricity between them, sizzling with the intensity of their attraction. He drew lazy circles around where his lips, never directly touching her where she needed him to most. She whimpered, anxious for him to hit the right spot. He grinned at her, a real smile, wide and pearly and overwhelming. Lost in the smile, she gasped when his fingers found their final goal, rubbing tight little circles. Her core clenched, He dipped a finger in, feeling how wet she was for him, before rubbing his wet finger against her. He dipped again, reapplying her own juices to herself. Rubbing tighter and tighter in perfect little circles, she felt her body tightening, clenching. A delightful burn and ache built in the background, spreading across her whole body, as she got closer, closer. "Oh god, Daryl," she hissed as he brought her right to the edge, "I'm so close-" she cried out as her body almost levitated off the bed as she came, her limbs writhing, leaving her gasping and moaning at his expert fingers.

He licked his fingers, tasting her. It was such an intimate action, she found herself shivering in anticipation. Next time, she wanted him to taste her directly. _Oh god…_She thought, just the idea of him going down on her almost sending her over again.

Meeting her gaze, he brought his swollen, daunting cock to her entrance, sliding the head up and down her slit, drenching it in her juices. Just watching, she was so turned on. He brought his hand up, tiling her chin so that she was looking directly at him. Once their eyes locked, his pushed all the way in, all the way to the hilt, filling her more than she ever thought she could be filled. She wasn't a virgin, but she'd never been with a man, as Candace considered any previous sex with 'boys' compared to Daryl. He was definitely a man, and the proof of how manly he was he used to pound her into blissful oblivion. With an animalistic ferocity, Daryl unleashed his beast, finding a fast and hard rhythm they both were lost in.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god!" Candace cried out, his cock pounding in and out her faster and harder, hitting a spot inside her that made her whole body feel on fire. Sliding in and out of her, slick with her arousal, he started losing control, gaining speed as his rhythm became more and more erratic.

"Right there, please Daryl," she begged as he kept hitting that oh-so-perfect spot, getting her closer and closer. "Don't stop!" She gasped, so close. She was so focused on wanting it to happen, it was so close, but it just wouldn't.

"Don't think so much, Candace," Daryl grunted in her ear, thrusting. "Just let go, Candace." Her eyes were rolling back, her back arching, neck stretching as her head pushed back into the pillow. "Let go," he said again.

And she did. Gasping and spasming around him, she lost herself in the most powerful orgasm she'd ever had. She had heard that g-spot orgasms were better, but now she had proof. She was in the thralls of her orgasm, still soaring high miles above her body, as Daryl hit the last few thrusts and pulled himself out in a hurry, spilling himself all over her stomach and breasts. Breathing hard, he hit the bed next to her, reaching down on the ground for his shirt. He used it to clean her up, flung it back on the ground and pulled in Candace next to him, nuzzling her neck.

She was happy he was here, in her life, in her apartment. Here she was, in his arms, the place she wanted to be. "Daryl?" She asked. He grunted a response, letting her know he was listening but dozing off too. "Where does this leave us? What are we?" She internally cringed at asking the question, but she knew it had to be asked.

He pushed himself up on his side, looking at her. "I like you, Candace. Me and Merle ain't in town on a steady long-term basis, so I'll be out with him most times… But, I want to come here to you, Candace." He said it seriously. "I want you in my life, I can't not have you in my life," He said, the second part more to himself than to her.

"I'll still be working at the strip club, you know that. I gotta save up for culinary school. It's just dancing. I told you I don't do anything else…" She trailed off, waiting for him to talk again.

"I ain't good at this stuff, Candace. Never been a … boyfriend… before." He struggled with the word, almost as if it hurt him to say it. "But I want to try with you." He finished, hoping it was enough to show her what she meant to him, even in the short time they had known each other.

"Then let's try," she agreed, kissing him softly on the lips before pulling up the covers around him.

* * *

**IMPORTANT NOTE: I know I said I would have 3 pre zombie chapters, then all zombie ones but there is actually ONE MORE pre zombie chapter showing how things were left between them. I was going to do all of it in chapter 3, but I got carried away with the sex… ** ** You're welcome!**

Thank you again for all the follows and favorites! And for the reviews a few of you have left me! I'm a very busy college senior about to graduate and knowing that there are people who enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it keeps me going : )

Hope you liked it! Till next time!

-Lana


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